I'm in Morro Bay pretending the humongous power plant is merely the world’s largest fog machine, as it is, and as far as I know will always be overcast here. But they say its beautiful and large cast Iron anchors adorn the street corners. I did make it into the visitor center and the museum for Hearst castle, I did not make it to the castle as the tours were found few and far between, as well as highly regimented for the providence of a wealthy democrat. Tisk, tisk, Randolph last nights voyage I was coming for you, I am now absolved of your legacy, no guest should be forced to eat dinner and not aloud to take drink in to their rooms. The Toyota Prius I have rented for this expedition has held up quite nicely, I will find no better way to insult a man then to neither neither cut him off in a Prius nor pass him up in a hybrid. I do so enjoy the Miles Per Gallon gauge, as I have, however, found driving seventy-five miles an hour while getting seventy-five miles per gallon does not open any strange portal nor does it increase the rate at which I currently time travel. Though I do ponder the equation, if there is one at all, to these numbers syncing up. There is a great rock here in morrow Bay; there is no wifi and a power plant. There is a rock and no hard place to see it from.

"Five Stars! ....For readers who are looking for a book filled with great, thought-provoking human interest stories, Your Smallest Bones is unquestionably your next best read." - San Francisco Book Review